The Octoballers A Series of Short Stories
by dream of the shore
Summary: A story about a young girl named Frank, and her adventures with a strange group of musicians with varying pasts and possibilities. Inspired by Rock Band 2.


**AUTHORS NOTE: I'm gunna go ahead and say in advance that there's BAD WORDS, and occasionally SEXUAL THEMES. I don't have any examples of the latter, but in case they happen, I warned you.  
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**DISCLAIMER: I do not own any of the songs listed here. They're owned by the bands and record companies that... own them. I take no credit for their creation, but I highly recommend you buy their albums. Because that would make me look good. The songs mentioned in this chapter are "Float On" By Modest Mouse and "Pinball Wizard" by The Who.**

**All songs are able to be found on Rock Band 2. I don't own that either. But it's a fun game and you should get it.**

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It was a weird moment, where I found myself. I had no idea how I got here, or exactly why I was here. It was a bus… the tires whirred against the asphalt. I looked around and saw a bunch of silent teenagers, all too tired to talk, gazing emptily out the window with vague expressions. It must have been early morning… this was my old school bus to my high school… Things definitely seemed a little blurry. Probably because I was tired... my ability to focus was famously bad in the mornings, and just about everyone I knew was aware of that.

It wasn't surprising. I'd been a bus rider for a long time. I had a car, but I didn't wanna waste gas unless I was picking up…

_Kit_. A boy with medium-length, dark brown hair and shiny hazel eyes flashed across my mind's eye, smiling with a loving, happy expression, his hands in the pockets of his hoody, his blue jeans splotched with bits of white paint dried on.

My breath stopped, but I regained my composure quickly, forcing the image out of my mind. That rarely happened nowadays. I was used to the occasions where I thought of Kit. I wasn't sure why it was a big deal right now…

But I was going to school…

The bus came to a halt in its spot and the doors came open. I reflexively grabbed a backpack on my right without looking at it… and then I walked out, stepping into the cool air outside, my eyes darting forward. I remembered how I always wanted to get into the building fast, because I hated being trapped among the crowd of kids outside.

He was there, waiting for me, in a green t-shirt and jeans, shivering lightly in the cool air... the other kids outside interestingly moved around us, leaving a nice open gap where I stared into his eyes. I wasn't sure how I looked at the moment, but I assumed the look on my face would explain my confusion.

My confused expression was lost on him, as he stared at me with a pleading look as though he was hurt by my lack of understanding. "Please don't go" the expression on his face seemed to say. He walked closer to me and carefully grabbed my hand, his fingers weaving between my own, squeezing tight. I noticed the black Skindred sweater covering my arms… his old sweater...

Next thing I knew, we were walking. I couldn't get myself to speak a word. Everything I wanted to say came out as a choked out sigh. He led me along the sidewalk, away from the walkway where the other kids crowded around the class double-doors into the school, walking forward, but never fast enough to really drag me, but it still seemed so fast, like a blur. I had no idea what was going on. He eventually pulled me in front of him and guided me slowly, gently to the clear door into the commons of the high school. All the sudden I felt warm, soft, slightly wet lips on the lobe of my ear, in contrast to the cool morning air.

I shivered, my knees buckled for a moment and I leaned back into Kit's arms. His hand wrapped around my waist as he opened the door and guided me in, kissing me once on the side of my neck, causing another wave of electricity to flow along my spine. My mouth opened to protest, but a small voice urged me to let him continue. I wanted this, but at the same time I wanted nothing to do with this. As teeth nipped gently against the lobe of my ear, and the arm around my waist began to grip possessively, I could do nothing but dwell on one syllable, unable to speak properly.

"I..."

I realized my eyes had fallen shut as he opened the door, so I opened my eyes with a sudden urge to pull away, but in front of me was a table that I didn't usually sit at, and a friend of Kit's was there. I started to pull away but Kit wasn't holding me anymore... the girl who I once was friends with smiled at me as though she never hated me at all and she gestured towards the table. There was a ton of paper notes, folded and tied together with yellow and red ribbons. My eyes skimmed over the fronts of the notes…

"_Forgive me Frank"_

"_I am sorry Frank"_

"_I miss you"_

"_I never stopped loving you"_

A weird, sort of constricting feeling started to grow in my chest and it got hard to breathe. The feeling... I wasn't sure if I was happy or sad, but I turned to look at Kit, to see if he wrote them.

He wasn't there.

I looked back and all was gone except Kit's friend and she was yelling something, her huge mouth flapping in a somehow so familiar way...

"And we'll all float on, alright, already we'll-

*****

"ALL FLOAT ON!" A strained voice echoed through the walls of the tour bus. My eyes flickered open and the familiar whir of the bus tires on asphalt registered again, sounding clearer and somehow more real then before. I groaned and rolled over, grabbing my pillow and holding it over my head.

I was in my room on the bus, a small little section with a bed, a little table, and a dresser. There wasn't room to do much in there. I only slept and changed in here anyway really... but that didn't stop the place from being a mess. My clothes were tossed carelessly about. Clothes from photo shoots, meet and greets, shows, random days out...

Ted's "singing" continued to penetrate the fabric of my pillow, and I couldn't keep thinking straight over the butchered lyrics of one of the only sounds I actually wrote. I gave up on sleep, leaning up. I grabbed the purple short-shorts and the black random-city T-Shirt lying closest on the floor and put them on. No sense in dressing to impress when I was gunna go see _Ted_.

I admit I was a little bugged 'cause I wanted to know what the hell was gonna happen next in my little dream, but I was mostly annoyed because I hadn't slept much lately. The others had a tendency to celebrate victory in big, extravagant parties where they'd stay up all night, but I always went to bed early... or at least, early compared to THEM. I slept the most out of all of them, favoring napping over sightseeing when we stopped at cool places, or band practice, or really anything I didn't care about. It was still dark out when I peered out the blinds on my window, so I assumed they hadn't even gone to bed yet. I looked at the clock on the little nightstand next to my bed.

Four A.M. Mhmm. They hadn't slept yet, and probably didn't plan on it for another few hours.

I stood up and took two steps to the door in my tiny little room in the bus. My bare feet were greeted with warm carpet. I loved this bus. It was so nice compared to that ratty van we had before. I threw the door open, peering to the left down the hall where the couches were... the usual hang-out spot for the band.

Mine and Mike's room were in the back, Fielding and Ted had the front rooms, and there was a nice, chill lobby in between - the hang-out spot I mentioned. Fielding was sitting on one of the couches reading a small book. He didn't seem to notice Ted's wailing from the front of the bus, but that figured because Fielding had the patience of some kind of saint. I approached him stepping a little harder then usual to let him know I was approaching... I wasn't surprised to see that by the time I was standing in front of him, he hadn't even looked up yet.

"Hey Fielding… Do you know where Mike's bass guitar is?" I asked quietly, trying my best to sound innocent. He looked up to me, and I saw his eyebrows raise above his white lens-less sunglasses.

"The one that's an axe with some strings on it?" Fielding inquired gruffly, holding his book down, his thumb between the pages.

"Yeah that one." I said trying to smile sweetly rather then maliciously.

"Haven't seen it." He said almost instantly, looking back down at his book. Fielding had a way of making his time seem precious, and for the most part we agreed. I didn't wanna waste his time.

I figured I should leave him alone and let him read, so I left him and looked down the hall to the little door across from mine. The door was shut, which almost always meant it was locked... Mike figured he was some kind of musical genius and we'd never understand his work, so his room was off limits to us. I walked over and knocked twice, hoping to get him to lend me the rough steel axe so I could at least scare the hell out of Ted so he'd shut up and let me sleep.

"Mike, sorry to wake you, but-"

"Mike's on the roof." Fielding called from the lobby.

The roof? Seriously?

"What?" I asked, totally not buying it. I found myself looking up at the ceiling anyway though… sure enough, I was pretty sure I could faintly here the faint strumming of Mike's practice chords as faint as an MP3 player. Just a few seconds after I noticed it, the faint strumming suddenly cut off, the window outside darkened as we presumably went into a tunnel. I heard a loud thud. It could have been metal colliding into the top of our bus... or a human body getting knocked off the top of the bus due to low clearance. I bet a good bit of color drained out of my face.

"…Was that what I think it was?" I asked, my voice quivering as I imagined Mike smeared across the top of the bus.

Fielding shrugged, turning the page of his book. He didn't care. Ted's yelling ceased all the sudden... it was quiet for a second and a half, and then-

"What's all the damn noise?!" Ted's loud, deep voice called from the front of the bus.

Before I could point out the fact that he was the one who woke me up in the first place, the window next to Fielding suddenly cracked, and then burst inward, spilling glass onto the floor and couch next to Fielding. Mike swung in, his solid-gold guitar on his back, without a bruise or a cut on his fancy jacket and pants. I jumped and started stupidly at him, dazed. For a sec, I thought I was having a double dream, until I tried to step back and a piece of glass dug into my foot. I winced and hopped up.

"Ow!"

"Hey folks, just figured I'd pop in and grab my amp for some proper practicing... all the wind up there's making it hard to hear what I'm playing." Mike said without noticing my bleeding foot. I sighed angrily, trying to gesture at my foot, but he didn't even look my way as he trudged across the glass-covered floor. A second later, I heard a door open, some rustling, a door close, and then Mike was making his way to the other window across from Fielding behind me.

"Do we even have plugs up there??" I asked as I sat down on the table closest to the T.V, pulling glass from my toe. I pretty much wasn't counting on an answer.

"Nope." Mike said, tapping the glass twice, before walking to the front, past Ted's room, and bowing extravagantly.

"Thank you ladies and gentlemen, and good night." He said, opening the door of our moving bus and stepping out, the door shutting behind him.

I stared for a moment, scratched my head, and looked at Fielding. He turned his page and looked eagerly at the page, clearly more interested in his book then Mike's antics. I assumed he was used to him doing these things. I had forgotten all about Ted by this point, who hadn't spoken since he demanded to know the source of the crash.

"Hey Fielding, did Mike pull this kinda thing often in your old band?" I asked, rubbing my legs as the cold wind from the broken window blew in.

Fielding just nodded, not even looking up. All the sudden, I had a sense of deja vu as there was another loud crash.

I jumped and squeaked as the window next to me erupted into glass, which flew all over me and the floor. I turned with an angry expression to see that Mike had jumped in through that window too.

"Much better. I hate an asymmetrical tour bus." Mike said, brushing his hands together. I stared at him... maybe in anger... maybe bewilderment. Maybe a mixture of the two. Fielding must have been looking at him now too, because Mike got an offended look and gestured at himself.

"Why are you guys staring at moi?" He asked as if he hadn't just crashed through the windows.

"Is openin' the windows not good enough for ya?" Fielding asked casually, in a somehow_ friendly_ tone.

"There is glass everywhere. I don't have shoes. This is gonna be like walking through a mine field." I said, carefully brushing glass off my shirt, glaring at Mike.

"Oh dear, I've made quite a mess. Guess _someone_'ll have to clean that up..." He said, kicking his feet as he walked towards Ted's room. I turned to look at Fielding who now had a "WHAT YOU TALKIN' BOUT" kinda look (I don't know how else to describe it) on his face directed at the broken windows, as if he had just noticed.

I tiptoed over to Mike, trying not to hurt my feet more as he threw open Ted's door. There he stood, with his unnatural forest green hair, his orange contacts, and his gray boxers as he sang into a broom, wearing what looked like two eyepatches, one over each eye. My desire to chuckle was overwhelmed by my urge to gag.

"AND WE'LL ALL FLOAT O…. What." Ted said, reaching up to lift up an eyepatch to look at Mike.

"Hey Room Service, we got a mess in here to clean, chop chop mademoiselle." Mike said, gesturing into the lobby.

It was quiet for a second. Ted's free hand tightened into a fist and his knuckles cracked. He took two steps toward us, obviously trying to be scary.

"Do I look like your fuckin' maid man?" Ted growled. I didn't even find him slightly intimidating.

"I'm sure you could pass off as one with that get up." I said. His one-eyed glare directed at me before Mike piped up.

"Yeah, pretty much, I mean, you're even carryin' a broom woman. Go clean, that's what you get paid for." He said.

"Well make sleepin' beauty do it, she's the band _woman_. She doesn't write any of the music anyway."

I rolled my eyes, flipping him off with my right hand. He had obviously hit his head or something recently. I was about to chime in about how that VERY song he was singing was one that _I _wrote.

"Nah man, you're not doin' anything anyway Ted, just murdering that song." Mike said, the smirk on his face audible.

"And waking everyone up." I chimed in, letting my annoyance drip into my words.

"Well hey; it's Frank's song-"

"Checkmate you dumbass, I do too write songs!" I said, pointing my finger at him.

"…Uh… Ergh…" He faltered. Ted was a wimp when it came to me.

"Well, looks like you lose this time Ted. Be a good guy and clean the glass, if you surrender and be a man, I'll get you some good dinner tonight."

"Ribs?" He asked suddenly, looking up, a twinkle of hope visible in his open eye.

"Sure."

"FFFFFFFFFFUUUUUUUUUUUU- Ok fine." Ted said dramatically.

"God damn people, can't a nigga get some quiet to read a good book over here?" Fielding's voice echoed into Ted's room. Mike took two steps backward and called out to him;

"What? You read Field Nig? I thought all you did was haul our gear around for the white man." Mike said with a grin on his face.

I stared with shock at Mike. I turned to look at Ted and he had a mixed look of fear and amusement.

"…Shut the fuck up French boy." Fielding said, as if dismissing Mike as a joke of a human being.

"Yes Massah! Right away Massah!" Mike said mockingly. I wasn't sure what the hell he was even doing at this point. The accent was like, asian or something, it just didn't even make sense.

"Uhh… Mike…" I whispered. He turned his head at me and I could barely see his eyes meet mine through his shades.

"What? It's just Field Nig, he wouldn't harm a fly Frank!" He said, half-whispering, gesturing both arms at Fielding, who was tapping his fingers against his arm, glaring at Mike.

"So hey, that's like his nickname right? We can just call him Field Nig now right?" Ted said stupidly.

"Uhm… I wouldn't push it…" I started to say…

"If you want to keep your precious little vocal chords on the inside of your body, I suggest you refer to me as Fielding, or Master F, white boy." Fielding said in a tense tone. Ted frowned and walked out into the hall, started to scoop up the glass.

"Sure thing Master F…" Ted said, like a school boy that felt guilty for interrupting his teacher.

"Hate to threaten a lady, but Frank…"

"You think I'D do something like that? Do you know me at all Fielding?" I jumped in, offended.

"I'll break all your pretty little fingers if you ever address me as 'Field Nig'".

I glared at Fielding and flipped him off too, prompting him to chuckle. He muttered something that sounded kinda like "cute girl" as he returned his gaze to the book in his hand.

Mike cracked up laughing at Fielding's threat, and then suddenly looked serious and put his hand on my shoulder.

"He's totally serious Frankie."

"No he ain't Frank, there's no way he'd rip out anythin' for us callin him Field Ni-"

"What boy?"

"ing."

I sighed, and shook my head. I carefully started to walk across the glass-coated floor.

"Fuck you guys; I'm going back to bed. You're all insensitive bastards." I said. I was really kinda mad at them, but I knew they didn't care.

"Oh gimme a break Frank, sensitive is my middle name! The ladies love me! Don't you remember when-"

I cut Mike off.

"No. Fuck off." I said walking back to my room, avoiding the glass.

"Fine Frankie. The bass is on the roof, if you can get it you can use it." Mike said, turning back towards the door.

I sighed and closed my door behind me. I leaned against the door for a moment. I could still hear them.

"Jeez, who peed in her coffee?" Ted asked, still scooping up the glass I figured.

"She's a girl man. Girls are always like that. If you piss 'em off, they'll treat you like shit for weeks." Fielding said, holding his book up to his face.

"That ever happen to you?" Ted asked, looking up from glass collecting.

"Nope. I'm perfect. I'm god's gift to ladies. I'm some kinda love machine."

*****

**AUTHORS NOTES: So folks, what you think? Would you read more of these? See any typos? Please leave comments and stuff. Hope you liked, thanks for reading! There will prolly be more.**

**-tt**


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